


Names

by GalacticallyNonbinary



Category: Wolf 359 - Fandom
Genre: (besides a really old crappy crack fic), (i stg this podcast will kill me), F/F, and not have trauma and death, my first wolf 359 fic, pls go easy on me i just wanted my gals to be happy in highschool, pretty fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 07:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12151209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalacticallyNonbinary/pseuds/GalacticallyNonbinary
Summary: Isabell Lovelace. Football player. Renee Minkowski, the girl who comes to every game and sits in the front row of bleachers. Their conversation after a particular game.





	Names

Running on the field, she was all sweat and muscles. Confidence and power. Focus and determination.

Sitting in the stands, the first row of bleachers, another girl was watching, awe alighting on her face as she stared, captivated, at the field. Even after her school’s team won, even after the players left the field.

That’s how it was for most games. For most of Minkowski’s life, really.

_Minkowski._

The kids in elementary school had laughed at her last name, and had refused to call her anything else. Sure, they were pronouncing it wrong, but she couldn’t shake the name, even in high school. So, she was Minkowski. Min _kow_ ski, the hard ‘w’ making her wince slightly every time she heard it.

The name may have stuck, but her standing as the outcast definitely didn’t. She was strong, smart, and kind, a genuinely likeable and outgoing person. And yet, that all could change in a heartbeat.

“Hey Minkowski.” She noticed how her name was said _correctly._ “What did you think of the game?” Minkowski looked up and saw a tall girl looming over her, shoulder pads and a helmet making her more intimidating than usual. She came and talked after every game, and yet Minkowski was still terrified of her.

“Oh! Hi! Lovelace! Uh…yeah, good game…uh…” Minkowski kept stumbling for words, hating how shy she suddenly became whenever that particular girl talked to her.

_Lovelace._

She had chosen to be called by her last name. Minkowski was jealous. And if she could focus on the jealousy, she could ignore her heart pounding in her chest, ignore her sweaty palms, and ignore how hot her face felt.

Lovelace sat down next to her on the bleachers, and Minkowski's heart lept. She'd never sat down before, she'd always just asked about the game and then left. Taking off her helmet and Lovelace took a long gulp of Gatorade.

“You know that stuff could kill you, right?” Minkowski asked, frowning at the unnatural neon green of the drink. Lovelace just chuckled.

“What do you know about anything athletic? Weren’t you the kid who went home and _memorized_ the student handbook?”

“I do boxing.” Seeing Lovelace’s face made Minkowski wish she’d never said a word.

“You _what?”_

“Nothing,” she replied quickly. Lovelace fixed her with a stare, and Minkowski sighed. “…I box, okay?”

“Now this, I’ve got to see. Do you have a punching bag or something in your basement?!” Minkowski kept staring at the ground. “You do, don’t you? That’s it, I’m going to your house right now, and you’re gonna show me.” Minkowski tried to come up with an excuse, but Lovelace stopped her. “There’s no way that Renee Minkowski, our resident over-achieving senior _doesn’t_ have a car and a license. So you’re taking me to your house, and you’re showing me this. Now.”

Minkowski groaned, and pulled black keys from her pocket, pressing a button and making a car beep in the parking lot. A grin spread across Lovelace’s face, and she pumped her fists in the air.

Almost thirty minutes later, Minkowski pulled into her driveway, Lovelace sitting in the passenger’s seat, now wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt with their school’s logo on it. Minkowski led her into the basement, and showed her the blue punching bag.

“No, I want to see everything. Do what you would normally do, act like I’m not here.”

Rolling her eyes, Minkowski walked up the stairs, telling Lovelace to stay in the basement. If she had to show off, at least she could wear normal exercise clothes. She pulled on a loose pair of shorts and a black sports bra. As she walked back down into the basement, she immediately regretted her decision as she saw how Lovelace’s gaze drifted down from her face. Still, Minkowski ignored her reddening cheeks, and grabbed a pair of boxing gloves. Taking a deep breath, she started swinging at the punching bag.

As she hit as hard as she could, Minkowski thought she heard a quiet, _‘damn…’_ from Lovelace. Finally, she stepped back, breathing heavily.

“You really are good at this. But do you think you’d do so good against someone who could hit back?”

Minkowski looked up to see Lovelace’s smirk, it was almost a dare. Within moments, Lovelace tackled her to the floor. Minkowski was strong, and quickly fought back. Soon, she had Lovelace pinned to the floor. Their eyes locked, and their chests were heaving as they took shallow breaths. Adrenaline coursed through their veins, hot and exciting as Minkowski got caught in the moment and leaned down…

Their lips met hesitantly.

It felt like home, like confidence and bravery. Minkowski pulled away, her face an impossibly bright pink. Lovelace smirked and leaned back for another kiss.

“Renee Minkowski,” Lovelace said breathily.

_Minkowski. She said it correctly._


End file.
